The Legacy
by decemberclementine1999
Summary: Set 14 years after the Inheritance Cycle ends, trouble is rising from the restrained spell-casters of Alagaesia. The heroes of the series are joined by their children to fight rising evil, but things aren't as straight-forward as they seem.
1. Chapter 1

Ismira ran down through the meadow, laughing with the small brook that ran down from the Spine to join the Anora River. Poppies and violets bloomed vivaciously around her nimble feet that jumped over rocks and mole-hills. "Ismira, get back here right now you little minx!" She was supposed to be helping Birgit with the sewing but when someone had knocked on the door she had taken the opportunity to escape. Birgit was a crotchety old woman with a nasty temper. Ismira was fourteen now, with long curling auburn locks and sparkling green-brown eyes. After the War, once Eragon had left, Roran, Horst, Loring and other villagers and families had returned to their ransacked village, and tried to mend what they could, and start afresh where they couldn't. Her father had ensured that Carvahall was well fortified so it would be easier to defend. The village was built in a circular shape, and at the centre was a large hall for meetings, feasts and other suchlike events. Roran and Katrina's home was on the outskirts, with swathes of fertile land surrounding it.

"Mira! There is someone here to see you! It is important! Now get your rebellious back-side over here!"

Ismira turned. A cloud covered the sun which shone brightly but a second ago. The Spine glowered in the corner of her eye and behind Birgit she saw the silhouette of a man. Curious, she stalked up the hill taking care to avoid bumble-bees and butterflies which flittered frantically away. When she got to the door, Birgit gave her a tongue-lashing to be proud of, but Mira stood square, and glared into her eyes, defiant. She heard a soft laugh from round the corner, "No wonder she runs away from you, Birgit, if you talk to her like that!" An elf like, lithe man sat in the large living space on a stool. He stood up, slightly too quickly and moved gracefully over to Mira. She narrowed her eyes. Again the laugh, like the bass notes of a harp, resonated to greet her. In spite of herself she smiled. "Ismira. You look a lot like your Mother, but I can see Roran's eyes and attitude in you! Atra esterni ono thelduin." Her eyebrow twitched upwards questioningly. A different laugh this time coming from within the living room. A woman, an elf, strolled over and twisted her hand over her sternum. "Atra du mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr, Ismira Katrinasdaughter. May the stars watch over you. You will not remember me, I doubt it at least, I am Arya Drottning." Realising she was in the company of a Queen, Mira bowed deeply and smiled nervously. The man spoke-"In my self-assurance, I forgot myself. I thought you would remember me. I am your Uncle; Eragon." _How could I not have realised? _Mira thought to herself. Now she knew she could detect some of Roran's features in his face, angled differently perhaps, but the same nonetheless. He smiled and gave her a polite hug. "Sorry to steal away your seamstress, Birgit, but I think we need a guide to find my cousin, wouldn't you agree, Arya?" A smile of happy understanding passed between them. Once she had been safely escorted from Birgit's little house, Eragon began to talk. "Well, I never would have thought Roran's child would have been locked away in a room doing sewing, but it doesn't surprise me with such feisty parents that you ran away like that!" Arya laughed with him and without realising it Ismira relaxed and started to laugh also. "I sure gave us a shock that you had disappeared!" Arya intercepted the merriment with a more serious note. "Ismira, would you be so kind as to show us where your father is? We have come here on business and it is important that we see him as soon as possible." Mira nodded solemnly.

"We live on the other side of town, if you would follow me." Ismira led the way through the maze of houses, arranged so as to make it difficult for intruders to find their way around. Roran had been altered by the War, his mind remained keen and logical, he was always pacing about, on edge- alert. Katrina was a balm to his anxiety, soothing him when he was heckled by the demons of his imagination. And his son. Roran had been one of the key people involved in arranging the town, a task which he took very seriously, knowing well that his design could lose or save lives. "We are here now." Mira announced. She walked into her home, and brought them to the living area, which had plain windows which viewed the fields where Roran toiled. Along with the original villagers, other people moved to Carvahall. One of these people was a glass-blower named Dernhill. Carvahall was one of the few places in the North where almost every house had glass windows. Mira ushered them to some seats from which the farmland and the river could be seen and said " I will go and find him for you." She went out the back entrance and ran down to the lower crop field. She arrived panting as Roran vehemently cursed the ass, Uiko, for stoutly refusing to pull the plough. "You useless beast" He exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking when I bought you, you sleazy maggot ridden son of a-" Ismira coughed prudently. " Oh! Mira, you didn't hear that! What is it child?"

"Eragon and Arya are here."

A frown creased his forehead , but then a smile erupted onto his face.

"What the devil are they doing here?! It's about time! Tell me Mira- where are they?"

"They said it was a matter of business. I left them in the living space. It is urgent."

Roran frowned again, this time his eyes turned to stone. He sprinted off up the steep hill to the house, leaving Mira standing with Uiko. She slowly made her way back up to the house, dispirited. That was the closest her father had ever been to looking frightened. When she reached the house she pulled off her mud-stained boots and went into the living space. Scared.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mira- leave us a while. I'll call you when it comes to dinner. Go fetch your mother from Odele's and ask her to come in here. If you find Carn, tell him to go grab Uiko and tether him to the stable post. When you get back go up to your room and practice your lyre."

Mira's eyes flashed with annoyance at having been left out.

"Yes, Father." She replied coldly.

Once she was gone Arya smiled, " Your daughter much takes after you, Roran. You ought to be proud of her. She has a proud heart."

"Yes, that she certainly does. Unfortunately. It always leads her into bother."

Mira had come in and at his request made them some tea and offered food. They talked of trivial matters for a while, dusting upon topics with much brevity. Once she left the smiles disappeared from the Riders' faces as they settled down to talk of more solemn matters.

"So… You have come. Thirteen long years I have awaited your visit, Eragon, but it hasn't arrived until now. Do tell me, _dear cousin_ why you have graced us with your company."

Arya's face blackened with anger.

"Roran you forget yourself. You know fine well that Eragon has been incapable of visiting. It was well believed he wouldn't return at all. But he has, and you should be grateful. In the last thirteen years he has re-established the Dragon Riders, reared and taught many and discovered new lands. You should be ashamed of yourself for speaking so out of place!"

"I believe not! This man is my kith and kin yet only once has he deigned to contact us. My daughter is almost an adult and she has never even met her blasted uncle! Family and land are what I care most about. _Shadeslayer_ here has ignored Delmor's attempts to scry him on my behalf! What is this? An insult or not?"

Eragon's eerily unlined face crumpled as though he had received many a blow, he held his head in his hands, rubbing the pointed tip of his once rounded ears. These words pained him. They cut deep and wounded his heart. For many reasons- but most of all because they were true. He reached out with his mind to hear Saphira's thoughts, but with a pang remembered that she wasn't with him. He had left her with their less advanced students on Domia abr Celöbra - Dominance of Honour- an Island off the coast of the other lands to the East, often referred to as Celöbra, where they had settled and built the City of Riders- Dras abr du Argetlam. Not the most creative name as Angela bluntly pointed out. "Eragon have you an affinity for the boring?! You are duller than a wood-louse, you pea-brain. You build a wonder-filled city for the riders and call it "City of the Silverhand"! Why not Towering Peaks Of Majestic Flame, or The City Of Smokey Dreams, or The Unchallenged might of the Shiny Scales mad Claw Gut Reavers And Their Pathetically Uninteresting Witless Specks Of Rubbishness? City of the Silverhand?! Bah!" Saphira had found this very funny and reminded him of the last conversation upon naming Eragon had before with Angela. Eragon had not seen Arya since he left Alagaësia, and nor had Saphira seen her nest-mate. Fírnen had flown over to Saphira (much to their delight) leaving Lord Dathedr to attend to Elven affairs.

"Roran; I have wronged you. I have tried to avoid contact with you so as to lessen the agony of keeping myself separate from my family. I can say honestly that it was never intended as an insult; I did not believe I could return to Alagaësia, from Angela's knuckle-bones and the last words of many under Galbatorix (cursed be his name) it was fore-told I would not ever make it back!. Nasuada summoned me here for reasons which I was about to inform you of, and if not for she I would have never come home. She pointed out that if my true name had changed since I left Alagaësia my old self- whom the men and Raz'zac cursed, would never return! One of the men must have been a magician of sorts, and imbued the curse with energy- thus using magic without the ancient language, without even realising it. A last lash out at the bringer of death. But since we discovered Celöbra, and started teaching the younglings and hatchlings, our personalities have changed. Not drastically, but enough. We still know who and what we are."

"Blast you Eragon! If it were anyone but you I would have smashed your nose in. To imagine a foster son of Garrow would speak so eloquently!? Bah! I accept your apology out of necessity. Tell me why you have come."


	3. Chapter 3

Infuriated, Mira sprinted to Odele's hitching up her cumbersome skirts as she ran through a rabbit-warren of alleyways and passages. Why had her father dismissed her like that? He never normally did! He would have let her stay there had she been a boy- damn it, why did men always have everything so much better?! She thought of Arya, who emanated power and regency despite her unusual attire. Ismira thought that if she dressed like a man she might be treated with more respect, as Arya was. Mira had visited Du Weldenvarden when she was but a babe, but it had still made a strong impression on her. One of pine-needles and harps and love and joy. She passionately longed to visit again the elves. It was one of her happiest memories. Katrina talked of it often, and when she did there was a beautiful gleam in her eye. When her little brother, Carn was born she had been five years old, and her parents had decided not to travel so much. Roran spoke regularly of his namesake, and how on many occasions his life had been saved by the magician, and how Carn had sacrificed himself for the annexation of Aroughs.

Odele's house was near the centre of town, a pretty wooden building, with a view over much of Carvahall and Palancar Valley. She had elected to stay in Dauth, under the protection of Lady Alarice, where she married Frewin, a man of Narda. After the War, they had travelled to Narda where she met his family: an old wizened Grandmother, Marja his older sister, and Rae his little sister. Rae was twelve at the end of the War, and an orphan, so Odele took her back to Carvahall. Rae had grown attached to her sister-in-law and soon settled in making many friends her own age and charming Odele's with her innocent nature, and gained a well earned place in their hearts. Rae was a kindly young woman, with soft, downy, mouse-brown hair, a snub nose, smiling button eyes and a love of children. When Ismira was little, Rae had helped look after her, played with her, and comforted her when she had trouble with friends. Under Nasuada's orders, schools of earning had been set up in every notable settlement, and many in cities. It was not mandatory, but advisable to attend classes at these. They taught writing, mathematics, history, geography, home-keeping, swordsmanship, dwarvish, and the ancient language. A student could pick which classes suited them best, and students were expected to attend every lesson unless they had a reasonable excuse. If none of these subjects suited you, or if you wanted to enter a particular profession, it was common for people to seek apprenticeships. Ismira was enrolled in all subjects offered with the exception of home-keeping, and she refused to be taught it at home. "Boys aren't expected to take it- in fact many are mocked if they do so. I refuse to allow myself to be treated differently from them, there is no reason for them to be considered superior, so I shall act as if that is the case!" The only reason she helped Birgit was because if she didn't her mother had threatened to take away Mira's gelding, Alexis. Ismira's friends were mostly boys with the exception of Rae. She regularly sought Rae's consul, as she was always able to help her, and Ismira would help her in return. Rae was considered old for marriage. It was odd that she had not yet tied the knot, she certainly had had plenty of offers. But she had declined many a suitor, for she was waiting for something: love.

Mira knocked on Odele's door and entered, following the sounds of voices to the kitchen where Katrina, Odele and Rae sat talking. "Mira!" exclaimed Rae and jumped up to give her a sisterly hug. "Mama- Father says you have to come home now. Uncle Eragon and Queen Arya are at home." Katrina raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"Ismira. Don't joke about things like that."

"No- Mama! It is true! Papa requested everyone present keeps quiet about it so they are not bothered."

"Thankyou Odele, Rae" Katrina nodded to them. " You are welcome at our hearth anytime. I guess I had better go!"

Odele hugged them both- "May the stars watch over you, Sisters." Rae smiled.

"And on you both" replied Ismira hurriedly as she ran after her already departed mother.


	4. Chapter 4

Eva wandered aimlessly through Du Weldenvarden considering the improbability of existence. The birds sung and chattered of her coming, she did not go unnoticed in the land- for some reason. She tripped and fell, cursing. Her dark brown hair fell about her face in an irritating fashion. She groaned as she looked down at her bloodied knee. "Waise Heill." she sullenly uttered. Why did she have to be so clumsy? Her Mother was so elegant and beautiful, her father lithe and strong. It must come from her father's side. Not that she had seen much of _him._ Her parents kept her existence a secret, with two exceptions- Lord Dathedr and Rhunon. They were petrified that someone would try to use her to influence them. Most of the time she lived alone with Maud, the werecat, and Rhunon, the old metal worker from before the age of the Riders. Blunt, ironic, yet good Rhunon was, and had done a decent job of rearing Eva. She had provided Eva with various scrolls from a young age, taught her the two alphabets and left her to her own devices, as far as studies were concerned. The rest of the time was free for Eva to spend at will. Eva had two main wishes in life:- to be loved, not ashamed by her parents; and to become a Dragon Rider. Eva was now thirteen and had touched many a dragon egg brought by her mother, astounded and passionately in love with each of the eggs, loathe to release them from her touch. She would stroke the flowing patterns, watchful, hopeful and desperate. On one of the rare occasions she had visited her father, she had overheard him say- "It would be easier if she were a Rider. Then she needn't be hidden away. She would be capable of protecting herself." Angered and distraught, she was under the belief that she would be appreciated by her parents if she had a Dragon, they would love her unconditionally and she would see them all of the time. She daydreamed about the prospect most of the time. Which was why she had tripped over the tree. "Barzûln!" she swore when she realised she had yet again ripped her leggings open. She decided to leave off mending it with magic. Despite her parents being two of the strongest spellcasters in Alagaësia, she had trouble with everything apart from healing and growing. She even struggled to lift a pebble two feet in the air for more than five seconds. She kept walking to her favourite place. The Lochan Lilja. When she reached the bank she bent down and stared at her reflection. She had thick, awkward locks which sat in an odd combination of curls and straight strands down her back. Her nose was too small, and twisted almost unnoticeably at the end. When she smiled one side spread further than the other, but only she saw that. Her eyes were large and widely spaced, an aqua colour, with flecks of green and grey concealed by a fringe of close, black lashes of medium length. She had an almost heart-shaped face and slightly tapered ears. Eva was awkwardly tall, not amazingly so, but enough to make her feel like an old pine among saplings. She had never met any whole-humans, and never any elven children. She had seen some from a distance, and she did not match their eloquence, glowing beauty and even features. She felt a scraggly half-caste. _Which is exactly what I am_, she thought. She must look like her father did before he was changed. For the first time ever, he had visited her. It was a shock, not a week ago, to see him in _her_ little wooden home, leaning against _her_ furniture, laughing- the sound echoing off _her_ walls. It was a completely unexpected visit- and that aggravated her. She normally had time to prepare herself for such a meeting- she would school herself to be cool and unfeeling toward. Not that it ever worked. She always felt like she needed to please him. Impress him. Show him how well she had turned out without any of _his_ help. Her Mother less so, as she had actually stayed and looked after her at least a week per moon, as much time as she could spare without abandoning her duties. But of late her trips had been less regular and more sporadic. Rumours of trouble in the land were whispered by the trees, whispered by flowers and sung of by birds. When her father randomly came, she challenged him to a duel. Ever since she overheard that conversation she had thought about it, turning it over and over in her mind; scrutinising it. "… She would be capable of protecting herself." … Capable! Ha! She'd show him! Every day since she had returned to The Guarding Forest she had sparred for half an hour before breakfast with Rhunon, and an hour before bed. She grew strong, and graceful with a sword. She could within three months hold her own against Rhunon for five minutes. But then she would mess up. She _always _seemed to mess up. Watching these bouts of fighting, her mother, one day had said- "A wise dragon once said- 'You have to learn to see what you are looking at,' Eva; try and dissect the meaning of this. When you understand, you will be able to hold strong against any opponent."

Eva was twelve then. On the day of the Summer Solstice, it came to her. She saw a butterfly, and understood exactly everything about it. It clicked. From then onwards the world contained new wonders. She researched and thought about most every creature for weeks until she knew it inside out. She related this to Maud. "Now you can truly see what you see." Wow! Eva comprehended! All she had to do was apply this to Rhunon, and then she could best her. For the rest of the day Eva followed Rhunon watching everything she did, reassessing and reviewing everything she knew about her. When it was twilight Eva wandered to the clearing where they sparred and readied herself. "Are you ready, child?" Rhunon taunted. "Prepare yourself to be beaten, again."

"Ahhh. Rhunon, don't delude yourself. I am more than a match for an antique item such as yourself!" Eva responded playfully. Rhunon mock gasped in horror. "You rude little thing! You shall regret that!"

Rhunon leapt at Eva, sword outstretched and deadly. Eva darted to the side, teasing- "Are you so slow that you can't keep up with a youth like I?" She counter-attacked with a swift undercut, but Rhunon defended herself and with a series of clashes of metal they exchanged a rally of thrusts and parries. Eva retreated to the left, knowing that Rhunon would be tempted to attack from the right. The attack came, Eva watched Rhunon's impassive face less than her body as muscle twitches betrayed intentions sooner than the expression. Eva defended herself before the blow had even started it's journey. She pressed her sword against Rhunon's neck. "What the…?! Well if the little chick hasn't taken her mother's advice at last. It's about time! I was getting tired of beating you. Now we will spar once for half an hour in the mornings only."

When Eva challenged her father to a duel she was uncomfortable, spiteful, and angry. He thought she was weak- he had said so himself. She would show him! He took at his iridescent blue blade, and she her silver sword. It was not a Rider's sword, but it was still regal. It too had the mix of bright-steel within it, so she would not be at a disadvantage on account of her weapon. When they reached the clearing, the animals ceased chattering, and turned their heads to watch. Eva watched her father carefully as he raised his brows and asked her if she was sure she wanted to do this. She nodded affirmative. Eva began to worry as they exchanged hits. _I barely know anything about him; how can I possibly hope to see him for what he is?_ Still, she was good, and he was startled by her finesse with a blade, though he hid it quickly. She grinned, _take that, you pathetic man! How can you be a hero and not care enough for your own daughter to know of her pastimes?!_ They continued for verging on ten minutes in such a way, when he smiled, with a queer expression on his face. Was it… was it... it couldn't be!? Pride! Eva was unhinged. Startled she slowed. He held his sword against her neck, and smiled again. Tears sprung up in her eyes. She couldn't cry! Not now. No- she wouldn't let herself! But she couldn't help it. She dropped her sword on the soft orange pine-needles and ran away. She didn't care where, as long as it was away, away, away. She stopped on the other side of the Lilja. There she stood panting, her chest racked with sobs. She sat down, leaning against a tree, pulled her knees to her chin and wept. There she stayed. It began to rain, the tree sheltered her a little; but it wasn't long before she was soaked to the skin. Eva simply didn't care, she was so confused. Tears mingled with rain so there was little distinction between them.

A warm hand on her back. She was scooped up into someone's arms, but she was so cold she no longer minded. Someone whispered into her hair- "Shhhhh... Shh. Hush now everything is going to be alright. Shh." Eva clung onto the person. When they broke into a run she barely noticed. She fell either asleep or unconscious.

Eva woke up as her hair was being towelled by someone behind her. She turned round. There was her father, a warm affectionate, completely absorbed look on his face. He had stripped off her outer clothes and replaced them with a pair of soft lamarae pyjamas and wrapped her in a blanket by the fire. "You are awake." He stated the fact. "Good, you sure gave us a scare. You were so cold we thought you would have hypothermia!" Relief flooded his face "Thank the stars you didn't! I hope you don't catch pneumonia! Unfortunately it is almost impossible to completely get rid of it by the means of grammarye." Eva felt tears prickle her eyes again. Concern in his eyes, her father dropped the towel and gave her a hug. "Don't cry, everything is fine! Please, relax, everything will be fine."

She fell asleep in his embrace. Gently, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs. He opened the door to her bedroom, somewhere he had never before seen. He pulled back the duvet and carefully laid her down, head softly propped on the pillow. He sat down on a stool engraved with an image of a rearing dragon, being flown at by two smaller ones. He noticed underneath the image of two men, a woman and three children standing before another man. He remembered that day clearly, replayed the events in his mind. Murtagh… Where was he now? Fourteen years had passed since he last saw the poor man. He tore himself from such thoughts, and looked round the child's bedroom. Images of hand-drawn dragons patterned the walls, some drawn by a small wavering hand, others by a firm, understanding one. He saw images of Saphira and Fírnen flirting above the towers of Ilíria, Thorn and Murtagh flying off into the sunset. Arya and Fírnen above a massive swirling river. Saphira and her Rider with a middle aged man, who seemed actually to well represent Brom. Then he saw an image obscured by a picture of Roran Stronghammer fighting an Urgal,


	5. Chapter 5

Elva strode purposefully through the grounds of Nasuada's palace in Ilíria. Elva had aged fast until at the age of five she looked twenty. Since then she has looked the same. But now she was busier than ever, after the first few years the assassination attempts had stopped, and Elva occupied herself by straight-talking. Due to Elva's gift, she became lonely very quickly, and so quenched that by travelling the city, telling kind and good people what they needed to hear, and corrupt and cruel people what they really were and scaring them. Nasuada didn't exactly approve but Elva had manipulated her into letting her do what she wanted. She felt Nasuada's fear that she would become a Dragon-Rider. If Elva became a Rider then she would be unstoppable. Even now she was too powerful for most-people's liking. They found her unnerving. All except from Maurice. But he was different.

He wasn't scared of her, or trying to please and flatter her, he just… _was_. Despite herself, Elva allowed herself a small, blushing smile. She wiped her ivory forehead with her violet gloved hand. Just one thought of his dark-blond hair and tanned, warm skin made her shiver. He was a Surdan, from Aberon, and having just reached his twenty-second summer was dashingly handsome. His dragon a deep, warm orange. He was a Rider. His bonded one - Amétrina was a very humorous, sardonic Dragon, who had got on extremely well with Angela the Herbalist. Angela had been surprised by Elva's friendship with Maurice and had thought how odd it was that she should befriend this particular young lad. Elva had never been in love before. Some had fallen for her when she was but five years old, and had been suitably shocked and apologetic when they found out how old she was. She cursed herself for permitting this to happen. _Elva you will stop this, stop seeing him, thinking about him, talking about him, and of course talking to him. _But she didn't. She kept on walking to the wooden bench where they often met, beneath the old pear-tree.


	6. Chapter 6

"Carn! Father says you're to fetch Uiko and tether him by the stables!"

"Go away Mira, you ogre, leave me be. Papa said no such thing!"

"He did you flea-rotten pea-brain- get the damned donkey!"

Mira turned and walked away, ignoring the odious insults her little brother was hurling at her, considering her duty done. If _she_ had acted like he did she would have been in a mad amount of trouble. Mira opened the door to her home and stepped inside, letting it drift softly shut behind her. She knocked on the living-room's door and entered. "Mira, I said leave us! Cannot you see how busy we are! Honestly."

"Oh, I'm _sorry_, Father. I only came in here to tell you that I have done as you asked! As you so desire- I will leave!"

Mira grabbed an apple from the counter and angrily left the room.

"Gods above! What on earth is wrong with her?"

"Roran, you were hard on her, she sprinted to fetch me and has obviously completed any other tasks you set her. She did nothing wrong!" Katrina held her husband's gaze until he turned his head away. Ismira was a head-strong thing, but had an acute sense of fairness. "Alright- maybe so, but that is no excuse to talk like that to me! You cannot deny how disrespectful that was!"

"Enough. We have more important matters to speak of than your daughter!" Arya interrupted before Katrina could reply. Then Eragon spoke before they could apologise.

"She is right. I will speak, if you do not mind. As you are aware, Nasuada, in her second year of power, imposed a new law, that all magicians in the country will be checked upon, and restricted; thus stopping magicians having the upper-hand over normal people. Even those with the slightest gift had this thrust upon them. Yet despite my reasoning against her and the Elves' refusal to comply, Nasuada's idea was sound and most certainly fair, and she went ahead with it. But, as you might expect, many magicians disagreed and rebelled against it. After a short while, everything calmed and calm it has remained for the last ten years. But now there are whisperings, rumours and dissent abroad in this land. The Elves began to hear tale of a group forming in the Hadarac Desert, in Du Fells Nangaroth. A group which opposed Nasuada's very rule; a group of magicians. This rumour reached Queen Arya, and she relayed a coded message to Nasuada. Nasuada had suspected nothing prior to this, and so wasn't unduly worried by it. Until four of my students, Oden, Cariya, Karhvog and Maurice, as a final stop in their journey to Ilíria, stopped at the Fells to rest with their Dragons. They were curious when they found that there were traces of human activity around the site. So they, after having rested and eaten, explored the inner-caverns of the Wild-Dragon's old nesting place. They happened upon a group of powerful human magic-users, who promptly attacked them and attempted to murder them, and they had to fight their way out. Terrified- Karhvog and Maghara (his Dragon) killed four of them, Oden one, and Cariya and Arnen (her Dragon) captured another. What had happened to Maurice I do not know. He hadn't wanted to stop there in the first place, and had refused to enter, urging the others to comply. He is a quick boy, and sometimes has a bit of a sixth sense when it comes to danger. They fled afterwards to Ilíria and deposited their prisoner in Nasuada's dungeons. There he was tortured. How this came to be, I do not know as Nasuada has banned torturing of any kind after her own… experience. This caused much anger when the magicians of Ilíria and Nasuada had to make a private speech and make them swear in the ancient language not to let a word of this escape. If it had been anyone but her talking there would have been riots, but, thank the stars she is still able to orate like no-one else!" He emitted a nervous laugh, which Roran imitated. It seemed almost as though they were close again, but the moment passed. Eragon cleared his throat quick and efficiently before he resumed speaking.

"We are either on the brink of an attack or not from the Magicians. It is hard to tell, but I brought here with me eight of my older more experienced Riders with me. I have sent two to each of the following cities- Dauth, Ceunon, Gil'ead, and Dras Leona. In Aberon, Teirm and Ilíria there are four Riders stationed (each). Those in Ceunon would sent one to the aid of Carvahall were it attacked. We must tread carefully- very carefully indeed. Hmmm. Nasuada, as always is trying to improve the Varden, no, sorry – Alagaësia's prospects, and asked me to give you this …"

Eragon stuck his hand into his satchel and pulled out a rolled up document. Roran grunted, and opened it.

It read:-

_Captain Stronghammer,_

_I am sure that your cousin will inform you of our current situation, in spite of the fact he has not asked my permission! I am grateful for your help at the Urgal's Games last Summer. I hear you made quite an appearance. But in times such as these trivialities waste time, and if I remember correctly, you are a straight talking, true, blunt man. I request that you send me your daughter, Ismira. I would have her stay with me in Ilíria, and she would be well looked after. At fourteen I believe with some training she could become useful for our country, if her parentage speaks for itself. I need an assistant, to aid me in meetings and politics. I have thought long and hard on this- and I believe that the people would dislike my having a random helper. Also, if I were to have the daughter of Roran Stronghammer and niece of Eragon Shadeslayer by my side, it would remind my adversaries and allies alike why we fought so long and hard to oust Galbatorix, why I released the law, and of how delicate the balance of power is. I sincerely hope you will accept my offer, for if you don't we may all suffer for it,_

_Consider it at least, Roran,_

_Nasuada Nightstalker._


End file.
